


Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure

by kleeio



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Hetalia, M/M, Napoleonic Wars, Nationverse, PrUK Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleeio/pseuds/kleeio
Summary: PrUK Week, Day 1- Impulses“Could you control yourself for once?” he hissed, locking eyes with the blond. That was the thing with Arthur-he was wild. He reminded Gilbert of the sea, strong and unforgiving, utterly unpredictable. He had almost no self-control, he acted upon his instincts without even thinking twice about it- and yet they almost never failed him. Arthur was probably so used to satisfy his impulses that by now he had managed to give them an order and a discipline invisible to whoever wasn’t him.





	Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from Lord Byron’s Don Juan. I haven’t managed to come up with anything better so let’s pretend it fits perfectly ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> This takes place in 1807 around the time of the [Siege of Kolberg](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Kolberg_\(1807\)).  
>   
> [ **EDIT** : you can now read this fanfiction in [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7059802) as well, translation provided by **[sunnyblowball](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyblowball/pseuds/sunnyblowball)** \- thank you again for having taken the time to translate this, dear <3 ]

When he was a child, self-discipline and abnegation were the first two things that Gilbert had been taught when he was a Teutonic Knight.

The words of his Grand Masters echoed in his head whenever he was about to succumb to any of his natural impulses, those ancient voices always managing to cool down a sudden passion that threatened to burn his soul.

Sometimes it wasn’t the memory of a warning that stopped him, sometimes it was the pained cry of a man and the sound of a whip slamming against his bare back, the picture of blood coming out from large gashes and rolling down the skin.

Sometimes it was the awful sight of a man starving while confined in a  small, dirty cell.

Sometimes it was the dreadful picture of an axe beheading in a swift motion another knight.

They were all memories of people who had broken the rules, a cruel warning to the other knights to deter them from turning their backs to God or give into their deepest, sinful desires.

Even when the Order was long gone, when the long white tunic turned into a dark military uniform, self-control was forced upon Gilbert, now head of one of the most feared armies in the whole of Europe.

Military life was all he had known since he was a child, he learnt to wield a sword before even learning how to read and write.

He was born for fighting, forged in blood, bred to lead and destined to raise among the European superpowers.

Everything about him screamed _glory_ and he did his best to make sure everybody in the entire continent knew that, even when he was facing a hard time- and what a hard time he was facing now, with the French marching further into his territory and all of his fortresses capitulating one by one.

He brought a hand to the side of his head, swearing that he could hear the enemies' footsteps getting _closer_ and _closer_ , feeling as if they were stomping on his brain with their heavy boots and poking at it with their sharp bayonets.

The door slammed open making Gilbert immediately reach out for his musket, only to drop it on the floor in frustration when he saw sandy blond hair and a dark blue and golden coat. “Whatever you want, you better be quick,” Gilbert grumbled, meeting his ally’s emerald eyes briefly before returning to the maps scattered all over the mahogany desk, a pale finger tracing a red line on the thin paper.

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow at him, closing the door and casually locking it behind his back. “You’re in a sour mood,” Arthur stated, earning himself a pointed glare. That didn’t stop the Englishman though, who only moved closer to the Germanic nation, placing his gloved hands on the edge of the desk and leaning closer to the other, his eyes surveying the plans spread over the wooden surface. “I don’t blame you, that frog never fails to spoil my day,” he said, clucking his tongue in distaste.

Gilbert sighed heavily and straightened his back, combing his fingers through his hair slowly before looking back at the English nation. “ _England_ ,” he grumbled, still glaring at him. “I seriously don’t have time to waste- _what do you want_?” he asked again, voice sharp as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s no way to treat an ally, dear,” he said, walking around the desk and getting closer to Gilbert. To anyone, Arthur must have looked like a fool who was clearly looking for trouble getting so close to an angry, military superpower, but Arthur knew that Gilbert wasn’t going to hurt him. The Prussian was weakened by the harsh blows France had delivered to him in the past few months, as proved by how pale and tired he looked, and also they shared some kind of bond, whether they decided to acknowledge it or not- either way, Arthur had known Gilbert long enough to know what buttons to press to have the fierce soldier of Europe at his mercy. “I get that you’re stressed, love, but there’s no need to take it out on me.” He said, placing his hands on Gilbert’s shoulders and squeezing them gently.

Gilbert grunted displeased and stepped away from Arthur, turning to face him and balling his hands into fists. “I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here,” he told him, fighting the urge to punch the blond.

“Of course I do. I’m here to help you, aren’t I?” Arthur smirked lightly at Gilbert’s reaction. “Let me relieve you from the stress, you aren’t going to accomplish anything otherwise,” he said, reaching for Gilbert’s arm and pulling him closer.

Gilbert let out a gasp as he was suddenly tugged closer, hands moving on Arthur’s chest and gripping the dark uniform tighter. “Could you control yourself _for once_?” he hissed, locking eyes with the blond. That was the thing with Arthur- _he was wild._ He reminded Gilbert of the sea, strong and unforgiving, utterly _unpredictable_. He had almost no self-control, he acted upon his instincts without even thinking twice about it- and yet they almost never failed him. Arthur was probably so used to satisfy his impulses that by now he had managed to give them an order and a discipline invisible to whoever wasn’t him.

That was the difference between them- where Gilbert _suppressed_ those natural instincts, Arthur _embraced_ them and used them to win.

Maybe that’s why he admired Arthur so much, that’s why regardless of the sides they were on Gilbert still looked up at him with marvel in his eyes at the strength that laid in the English nation’s heart, the same strength of the three lions of his crest.

There were also other impulses that Arthur abandoned himself to, some that Gilbert had ignored fiercely until relatively recently.

No matter how many times Arthur pressed closer to him, no matter how many times his lips brushed against the pale, sensitive skin of his neck, how many times those skilful hands roamed over his body, mapping every inch of it, tracing every line, every scar, no matter how many times Arthur would take him, lay his claim on him... everything always felt so _new_ , the nervousness and anticipation he felt the first time wrecked his soul every time.

Arthur smirked at Gilbert, moving him so his back was pressed against the edge of the desk. “You should know by now that the answer is _no_.” He laughed, trapping Gilbert between his body and the piece of furniture. “Especially when it comes to _you_ , Gilbert. You destroy every ounce of self-control I have.” He whispered, dragging his nose over the skin of Gilbert’s neck.

Gilbert closed his eyes, gripping the desk behind him tightly as he tilted his head to the side slowly, baring his neck at the older nation. “You have no self-control _at all._ ” He grumbled although he felt like melting when he felt the curve of Arthur’s smile against his skin.

“That’s because I spend too much time with you,” he said, kissing up Gilbert’s neck slowly, lips pressing against his jawline and cheek, making his way to the Prussian’s mouth and stopping when he reached the corner of his lips. “Now shut up and let yourself go Gilbert,” he whispered in a smooth, fruity voice before pulling him into a passionate kiss - which, despite himself, Gilbert returned immediately - not wasting any time in tugging the white shirt out of his trousers while forcing the stressed-out nation to sit on the desk behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's why Prussia got his ass kicked by France- he was busy fooling around with England.  
> I know that usually Gil is depicted as the wild, boisterous one of the two, but let's be honest- the guy used to be a Teutonic Knight and that Order was pretty strict (those punishments you've read? All true, kids). Also, if you're part of an army (especially if it's the Prussian one) you kind of have to learn to control yourself.  
> I see Arthur as much more rowdy and cocky, especially in those days when he was gaining more and more power (and he was also beating Francis in a bunch of naval battles, which I bet was a huge moral boost for him).  
> Speaking of Arthur, he's wearing a royal navy officer uniform instead of the usual redcoat because the British provided naval support to the Prussians during this Siege. Let's be honest, he'd look great in one of those.  
> Thank you guys for reading ~~this piece of garbage~~ this little PrUK fic ^^ I would greatly appreciate some feedback, especially if you have any advice for me!  
>  I wish you all a lovely PrUK week- let's spread the love for these two, they deserve it!  
> If you want to come by to say hello, you can find my tumblr [here](http://kleeio.tumblr.com/)!  
> Have a nice day, lovelies! ✿


End file.
